


Altruism and the Injustice of Heroism

by AnnaNSmith



Series: Established Fluff [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Community Service, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 07:16:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10916982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaNSmith/pseuds/AnnaNSmith
Summary: The one where lots of assumptions were made and Stiles and Derek get into way too many sticky situations. Or the other way around.





	Altruism and the Injustice of Heroism

Since long before Scott had been bitten and Stiles diagnosed his best friend with a severe case of lycanthropy, he had the uncanny talent to get himself (and others, case in point again: Scott) in trouble. The word talent here interchangeable with idiocy. However, during all the mischief he has found himself in, or sought out – whichever way you'd prefer, it has kind of made him a master in damage control. He would claim to have managed to hide about seventy percent of all the shit he had been involved in from his dad and got away with at least twenty with minimum grounding and the revocation of car privileges. Some might use that genius for curing cancer. Or world domination. At least he finds himself somewhere in the spectrum's middle and since the objective is for the consequences to stay minimum and, foremost, secret, this way it all stays concentrated within Beacon Hills. So all in all, the town's residents are still oblivious to the supernatural omni-present havoc. Hard to say if team Teen Wolf deserves the credit for that or if Beacon Hills' citizens are just a special case of unobservant.

In any case, Stiles has a lot of practice on how to make something not look how it actually looks like. Apparently a trait which has become autonomous and is in no need of conscious effort anymore. Because while he has been wracking his head on how to cover up a bundle of trolls terrorizing the municipal museum, the dwarf kind, not the giant one – thank god for small mercies, while a bunch of teen age werewolves try to catch them and herd them outside with minimum damage, Stiles hadn't actually been quite successful. In all fairness, he had been simultaneously running as bait, luring a troll to the next exit, while saving some bizarre craftsmen tools from tipping over their stands thanks to another troll currently on the run from a more than overwhelmed Isaac. His mind had been preoccupied as it was, Derek getting fucking tripped by a third troll and barreling into him, hadn't helped much to straighten his thoughts. He had made a mental note though to replay that monumental image over and over again and mercilessly tease Derek about (much) later. At this point of time he was too distracted by the flashlight aimed to his face, attempting long lasting retinal damage, and the deputies yelling freeze, as if he could actually move from underneath a mount of two-hundred pound werewolf. One of the deputies managed to turn on the lights and Stiles can't thank whichever deities are allocated to Beacon Hills enough when he sees Scott, Isaac, and Malia slipping out the side exit with the remaining trolls just in the nick of time. Unfortunately, the prior assaulted exhibition shelf next to them had decided to give up at the same moment and tools started pouring down everywhere around them. The clatter had been long-suffering and deafening and when it finally seemed to have reached its end, the actual silence was unbearable. One last item had tumbled down after, a medieval pair of shackles bouncing off Derek's shoulder and landing incriminating next to their faces. Perfect. So while the imminent threat of exposure to the supernatural had been yet again averted, Stiles had found himself in a situation he actually couldn't rectify, even if it had been nothing what it had looked like at all. A lot better than explaining a troll infestation. But also a lot worse.

  
“Dispatch, 97,” deputy Strauss had called in via radio.

“Go ahead.”

“Encountered two suspects on site.”

“Copy. Status?” Stiles would have laughed at their helpless expressions, if not for his predicament.

“Err... Maggie, has the Sheriff left already?”

“...No, and he'd like to know why you're asking instead of giving your report properly.” Oh, crap. Yap, that had definitely been his dad's voice.

“Sorry, sir. Suspects seem to be Derek Hale and... your son.”

Stiles could recognize that long-suffering groan from everywhere. Had heard it many times before. Too many of them via radio transmission. “Hi, dad,” he called out, still trapped beneath Derek, who seems to have opted to play Kanima victim, adapting the opinion if he holds very still and doesn't make a sound nobody will actually see him. His system shuts down like that sometimes. Especially when confronted with law enforcement, or it's mostly a the Sheriff is his boyfriend's dad thing. In any case, Stiles is working on it.

“What have they been doing now?”

“Not sure, sir. Called in disturbance turns out to have been...”

“What, Strauss?”

“Lewd conduct, sir.”

And that is how Stiles and Derek found themselves working off thirty hours of community service.

\- -

“This is hell!” Stiles groans annoyingly for the twelfth time since they started walking down the road. He and Derek were “asked” to contribute to Beacon Hills' community service for leaving the local museum a chaotic mess in their attempt to get some alone time away from the Sheriff's eyes. At least that's the official version. The Sheriff had groaned throughout the whole troll re-narration, wearing his default I-still-can't-believe-we're-actually-talking-about-real-werewolves-and-other-supernaturals-here look, and although he understood it was another Teen Wolf mission gone (only slightly, actually) wrong, word of the incident had spread too much already for him to silently cover up. In the shared interest of concealing their supernatural mess, they decided to keep with the assumptions that had been so quickly drawn and probably for the first time in records went with “It is what it looks like”, using Styles and Derek's existing relationship as an explanation for why they snuck into the museum and created havoc. Nobody really wanted to press charges against the Sheriff's son, even the museum's curator who had actually fainted at the sight of the scene next morning, and the deputies' reports were moderated down to a misdemeanor, allowing the Sheriff to handle the situation on his own authority. There was no way around some kind of punishment though (even though the Sheriff considered himself plenty punished by being the dad of the kid who broke into the municipal museum at night to make out with his boyfriend, having to deal with all the office gossip and giggles and pity glances thrown his way) and so he opted for his go-to method when trying to set difficult kids straight while at the same time keeping them out of jail – he sends them to community service. At least this way it doesn't look like he is sweeping Stiles' indiscretions under the rug and have it seem his son can get away with everything by having the Sheriff as his father. He hopes they remember this at the next Sheriff's Election.

“Shut up, Stiles,” Derek growls slightly, as unhappy with the situation as Stiles, though since he's actually a mature adult he's only bitched about it in his head and only three or four, maybe five, okay six times. He picks up another empty can with his new stylish garbage grabbers and puts it in the trash bag. Stiles had pointed out the neon green went well with his neon orange safety vest, earning him promptly a slap to the back of his head.

“This is so unfair! We're the heroes here! We saved the town from a troll invasion, possibly the whole county, maybe this continent, and what do we get for our effort and bravery? We get to pick up trash by the road when it's literally a bazillion degrees! Have you ever heard of Batman doing community work? No! Why? Because heroes are exempt from community service! It's their life-long professional prerogative!”

“Literally a bazillion degrees?” Derek cocks one of his eyebrows.

“That's what you choose to comment on?” Stiles snaps his head to Derek incredulously. “Not the injustice of unappreciated heroism?”

“Heroism is supposed to be altruistic, Stiles. And most of your ridiculous t-shirt heroes experience the 'injustice of unappreciated heroism' in some way or another. Either deal with it or turn into the villain.”

“For someone who can't stop complaining every time we watch a superhero movie, you sure paid a lot of attention,” Stiles points out, trying to get a little bit shelter behind Derek's frame from the sun. Derek lets him and might even square his shoulder a little more, for whatever infinitesimal plus shade that gives Stiles. ”But maybe you're right. Perhaps I will turn into the villain. I don't know how Dad thinks community service could get anyone onto the path of the straight and narrow. This 'beautification project' evokes my inner depths of rage and violence. ”

Derek snorts so loud the kid with the emo hair and clip on piercings turns around in front of them. He returns a (as Stiles labeled it) level 2 glare in response, having him dash away quickly to drag his tools and empty plastic bag somewhere else on the ground. Derek seriously wonders if the kid thinks, he'll get credited the hours for just marching around with the rest of the group. He should have given him a level 3 glare at least. Maybe that would have put him straight.

“What?” Stiles asks indignant. “I could be a villain!”

“There is literally no inner depth of rage and violence in you. You're a marshmallow.”

“I'll have you know I could make an excellent villain,” Stiles starts utterly outraged, “I am devious, brilliant, and after today have an immeasurable hatred for littering!”

“So you've decided to go dark side to seek and punish litterers. Yeah, you sound like the typical villain,” Derek comments dryly, pulling Stiles away from nearly stepping on a used condom. “Besides, sounds more like you'd be a vigilante. A dork one, but one nonetheless.”

“Can't I be something cooler than Karma Man?” Stiles asks, kinda liking and disliking the idea at the same time. He elaborates when Derek raises a questioning eyebrow. “You know, dishing out the universe's retribution for accumulated littering – Karma Man.”

“You're an idiot. For the record, Karma Man will die alone.”

“Don't be like that, Karma Man still has an open position for a sidekick. The fight against littering would suddenly become a lot more interesting, if we added some Wolverine action,” he says, slurring the last words a little.

“Trust me, nothing can make this interesting,” Derek replies unimpressed while pulling Stiles to a nearby tree, manhandling him into the shade. “Here, drink. You're dehydrated.” He pulls out a water bottle from his back pocket.

“How is it possible to wear these ridiculous tight jeans and still manage to fit anything into your pockets?” Stiles is genuinely baffled and considers it one of the world's many mysteries.

“You want the water or not?” Derek glares, pulling the water bottle slowly away from Stiles.

“Yes! Yes, please, oh mighty Denim God,” Stiles says quickly, actually having his tongue out like a parched dog.

“You're an idiot,” Derek repeats for what feels like the thousandth time since they began dating.

“No, Bob is the idiot for thinking 104 degrees is appropriate temperature for community work!” He shouts the last bit a little, hoping stupid Bob would hear from wherever he is leading the charge currently.

“Agreed,” Derek says, glancing to the tail end of the group, wondering how much of a break they can get until stupid Bob comes looking for them. “I'm not surprised he's related to Harris.”

Stiles didn't know that tidbit of information and promptly spits out the water he was about to swallow in the most unattractive way imaginable, dropping the bottle of water in the process. “What?! There's two of them? Why didn't anybody warn me?”

“Remind me why we're dating again,” Derek grinds his teeth, visibly trying to stay calm when he looks down on his clothes where Stiles had full on water vomited on him.

“Because,” Stiles drawls, he bends down to pick up the bottle, “I'm catnip to wolves?”

“Try again,” Derek replies, angry face still in place. And, yes, he might have been a little childish when he kicked the bottle just hard enough to be out of reach for when Stiles grabbed for it.

“You jerk!”

“You're lucky you're cute,” Derek claims, softening somewhat. He gently brushes some of Stiles hair sticking to his forehead away, allowing a small smile to grace his lips when he comes to the conclusion that, yes, Stiles is indeed really, really cute.

“I should be offended, men are not cute,” Stiles scowls somewhat.

“Who says you're a man?” Derek scoffs.

“Is that so? So you prefer to get blown by boys, is that it?” Stiles knows exactly where to hit Derek's nerves. Derek has always felt overly debauched for having a much younger boyfriend. His reservations led so far he refused to let anything happen beneath belt level in the beginning of their relationship. That hadn't lasted very long which just added to Derek's massive guilt complex. Stiles can see how the tips of Derek's ears are turning shades of red. Before Derek can respond in any form though, they hear someone coughing next to them.

“Gentlemen, isn't this exactly how you ended up here?” Stupid Bob was looking at them with a mix of condescension, disgust, and glee, nodding his head at the situation in front of him.

When Stiles and Derek follow his glance, it takes them an actual two seconds to notice. Stiles was on his knees in front of Derek – in front of Derek's wet patch which unfortunately happens to consist mostly of his crotch area. Add to that Derek's unlucky hand placement on Stiles' head and the fact that Stiles just exclaimed something about blowing him, it all paints a pictures far too vivid for any bystander. Once the two realize, they jump apart as if electrocuted, swearing both simultaneously: “It's not what it looks like!”

“Sure it isn't. It's not like you have a reputation or anything...” stupid Bob says, intentionally letting the end of the sentence trail off. “I will certainly not indulge any such behavior and will take this under review when evaluating today's community work.” He sighs for dramatic impact, making Stiles wonder if stupid Bob wasn't actually a villain. “It saddens me, you leave me no choice but to let the Sheriff know what transpired here.”

“You seem incredibly heartbroken,” Stiles mutters quietly.

“Maybe I should break something of his for real,” Derek growls even lower next to him.

“Just remember, altruism and the injustice of heroism,” Stiles whispers back.

“You can be the hero. I'll be the villain. I've got plenty of inner depths of rage and violence,” Derek forces out through clenched teeth.

“I didn't quite get that? Did you say something, Mr. Hale?” Stupid Bob asks with narrowed eyes.

“Nope, nothing! Only how much he can't wait to get back to work, sir,” Stiles exclaims cheerfully.

“Try to keep your hands and,” he pauses, leveling them with a pointed look, “mouths off of each other, would you?”

Stiles is quick to hold Derek back, before stupid Bob even notices he was in mortal danger. He waves and smiles happily until stupid Bob is out of sight and then turns to Derek.

“Whoa, dude!” Stiles yelps shocked. “Your eyes!”

“What about them?” Derek snaps.

“You're about to go full on Blood Wolf!” Stiles whisper-yells animatedly.

“What?” Derek asks genuinely confused, bewilderment pulling him out of his reverie. His eyes dim back to his natural eye color.

“Since when can't you control your shift?!”

“It's just... my eyes... I didn't notice,” Derek says, talking more to himself than to Stiles.

“We're lucky it happened after he'd already turned his back on us,” Stiles sighs in relief. “Dude, if you've got control issues, why didn't you tell me? I've got an excellent training program for that. I could have helped you.”

“I know what your training program entails. I will rip your face off,” Derek replies, back to normal. “I don't need help. It won't happen again.”

“So what was the problem?”

“I'm allergic to jackasses,” Derek deadpans.

“Look at that, you grew a funny bone while dating me. Who would have thought,” Stiles comments, but let's the topic go. For now. Derek is sure he will be thoroughly interrogated later on. He's already contemplating if this kind of Stiles' curiosity is distractible with sex, or if it's the kind Stiles will focus on like a dog and its bone. He knows what his control issue was about and he didn't lie when he said it wouldn't happen again. It's an anchor thing. Sometimes it just takes a little adjustment when it changes, that's all.

“Maybe we should break up. It's ruining my reputation.”

“So you can go back to your old brooding Sourwolf? I don't think so, I worked hard on this version. In fact, I worked so hard, I get ownership rights for Derek 2.0.”

“Stiles, I swear to god, if you make a collar and a leash joke now, nobody will ever find your body.”

“What? No, I wasn't even- I was getting my flirt on! Your ass, Derek! I was talking about your ass! Like how I wanted to own a piece of that!”

“Is that so, son?” The Sheriff asks, lips pursed. He's just pulled up next to them with Deputy Clarke sitting in the passenger seat with the window rolled down. “Bob just called me, telling me there's been some issues. I thought he might have been just his usual... eccentric self, turns out my idiot son might have been more at fault than I thought after all.” He looks pained upon Deputy Clarke's quiet chuckle and sighs. “Derek.”

Stiles has to actually elbow Derek into a reaction, since he has fallen back to his default response around the Sheriff (granted only when there is mentions of his son's sex life which, and there lies the problem, totally involves him).

“Yes, John?”

“You'll understand if Stiles won't be having any breakfast at your place for awhile, right? Since he seems to be a little too interested in your,” he coughs embarrassed, “ass.”

“Yes, sir,” Derek chokes out. But he does respond without Stiles' help. Stiles puts that in the win column. They certainly can use one after this horrible week. He isn't wrong, when he hears that evening stupid Bob wouldn't approve their community hours.

Life as a hero sucks.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys got the anchor reference ;)


End file.
